


Act Three Interlude: Maybe Tonight

by DemonAngelSakina



Series: Grand Designs [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alchemy, Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Human, Insanity, Mental Instability, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, alchemist, alcohol use, donor, donor tries to help vampire, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 21:16:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14221962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonAngelSakina/pseuds/DemonAngelSakina
Summary: 'Are you done yet? Has every drop of tainted blood in your body finally turned into alcohol?'~When you no longer know if you have anything worth living for...do you continue living or do you give in to the voices in your head?





	Act Three Interlude: Maybe Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for suicidal thoughts, alcohol as a coping mechanism, mentions of violence, blood, and depression. (My OC might be in serious need of a therapist.)  
> Read at your discretion please.

Slowly the heavy, stained glass door pulled open--the groaning protest of the rusting hinges masked by the rolling thunder. A flash of lightning suddenly cast the candle-lit chamber of the clock tower into stark relief...the woman's shadow briefly stretching across the old wooden floor before she pushed her way inside. As she pulled the door closed once more, blood-tainted water began pooling at her feet--seemingly running in rivers down the slicked surface of the leather trenchcoat that seemed to only drape her partially slumped form.

Slowly, as if each step was nothing but agony to take, she began to all-but peel the sodden sable hide from her body--dropping the heavy, bloodied coat so that it sloppily pooled onto the wooden floor. As she continued to walk, the brief thought of picking the coat up again--hanging it up properly perhaps?--entered her mind...but the thought was discarded; such a matter would keep for now--and, in the long run, was dreadfully unimportant...if it spoiled, it could be replaced easy enough by either a purchase or, more amusingly, stealing it from some prey who might be wearing something suitable to her taste.

As she began undoing the matte latex corset encasing her torso, a frown grew on her blood-stained, bronze-toned lips--when had killing become so simple for her? Was there not a time when she had detested taking lives to sustain her own and quiet this seemingly eternal thirst within her? Now she found such acts as pleasurable as writing lyrics or playing her guitar--her innate creativity driving her to psychologically destroy her prey, tormenting and terrifying them to 'ripen' the toxic burn such feelings produced in the blood, with a fervor some might compare to the proclaimed God of Chaos. 

As the crimson material hit the floor, she shook the thoughts away--the world had hurt her ever since her first breath...she was in the right to turn and inflict that constant, burning ache on anyone else who dared to draw her attentions. They were scum not even worthy of being crushed and ground into dust beneath her heel!

Kohl-ringed, cat-like green eyes scanned the dimness, finally landing on a heavy, carved mahogany table littered with glass bottles; slowly she walked over and picked up one of the two full bottles of bourbon in the sea of empty and half-empty bottles covering the low-set table before she dropped onto the tangled 'nest' of crimson and black silken sheets and woolen blankets that made up her bed next to the table. The thought that she should clean up the mess was discarded as she opened the bottle--upending the bottle with one-hand and taking a long gulp of the rich golden-amber liquid.

By the time she was a third of the way through the bottle, she had set it on the floor and began removing her stiletto-heeled boots--simply discarding the damp, ink-dark footwear to the floor at the end of her 'nest' before picking up the bottle again. She ran one hand up to her hair--tangling long-nailed fingers into the still damp mercury-colored locks as the night air sent a chill through her bared flesh. Slowly she raised the bottle to her lips, sipping slowly this time as she worked her way steadily to finishing half of the bottle--focusing all of her senses only on her latest bout of drowning her blood in the smoky-sweet alcohol...trying to ignore the blood-scent still clinging to her flesh and scattered clothing.

Briefly the memories slipped in with each sip--HE had found her. HE had been after the same prey that had, only earlier, caught her eye--and stoked her hunger--on a whim. HE got there first--always seemed to claim everything around HIM in some damned way it seemed. Gods--she scoffed in her head--were always such an 'entitled' lot...'everything' was apparently theirs by some 'divine right' as most tried to claim. All she thought was that such things were an utter crock.

Another sip--they had fought in the prey's hiding place...all because HE wanted her meal--oh she had been hoping that the prey would have entertained her by fighting back...but no, HE did not let that happen at the time. She had got him good during their little fight...and then HE had shown her to another she could feast on--they had not been too much fun, the woman had been weak even with the gun in her hands. Cowardly--barely worth the time really...but a meal to sate her bloodlust for even a moment of time was still a meal.

Another sip--even now, she wasn't so sure if she should be insulted that HE had forgotten all about her...but, then again, she had forgotten HIM--and everything she could about her time with HIM--fairly quickly. Though...she had to rely on the alcohol and her own works for that--losing everything in each swallow of burning poison...each splatter of blood coating her hands as she had returned her focus on her ten-year-long goal. Ten years to gather her...ingredients...

She froze, staring wide-eyed at the bottle in her hands at the thought--she...she had let HIM distract her even then! She had gathered the first soul and then HE came into her life and distracted her from everything! HE made her forget them--her girls...her friends...the ones she had once held so dear and so close! HE made her forget everything she had been working for with HIS honey-sweet words of passion and HIS hands and arms and...!

A scream of utter agony tore through her as she pressed a hand to her head--curling her fingers and digging her nails into her scalp until blood began to well-up and dye the mercury-hued locks a deep ruby-tone. Kohl and mascara-tinted tears dropped onto the floor--oh HE may have given her the key to the most complicated ingredient of her plans...but that was no excuse for the evil she had done to them! She had forgotten for so long--caught up in the warmth and 'living' that HE had shocked back into her long-numb system...

The bottle returned to her lips as she gulped her way to having only a fourth of the alcohol left--the once rich flavor turning into a burn of pure acid on her tongue as her thoughts continued unabated. HE had been a drug that had come into her bleak, tormented existence...and she had fallen hard into the addiction that HIS mere touch had caused in her--what right did she have to accept such a thing?!  
_'You did not have the right. You were weak...as usual it seems--so starved for things you are not meant to have. Pathetic.'_

She was one of the condemned--her own blood-soaked kin had disowned her centuries ago because she was not a murderer like them!  
_'You have become just like them now, have you not? You certainly enjoyed using your power earlier, did you not? Unbalancing the chemicals in those thugs' bodies until they became ticking time bombs and painted the alleyway? You danced to the sounds of those pitiful creatures' screams and pleading--drunk off of your own power, were you not? You relish in such violence and fear now--tainted, sinful blood is like wine for you these days.'_

She had let the ones she had loved and treasured most die from her negligence--if only she had moved faster!  
_'More like 'if only they had never met you'--a beast that can only corrupt, condemn, and destroy everything that you dare to touch. Then again...you enjoy the act of such destruction--how easy it is to corrupt and stain even the most pure of things. How many times did you try to 'corrupt' that wolf's innocent little mate just to satisfy your own needs to watch things break apart?_

She had forgotten them--she swore to fix everything...to bring them back and make up for her crime against them...but HE made her forget!  
_'Oh come off of it already. You know damn well that you let HIM draw you to HIM like a common marionette on it's strings. You let HIM wind you up and you let HIM distract you from everything around you. You wanted it and HE saw it and gave it to you--you let HIM make you forget...and YOU. ENJOYED. EVERY. SECOND.'_

The empty bottle dropped from her hand and rolled on the floor until it bumped the table leg as her eyes clenched shut against the onslaught in her mind--she could not blame HIM...not for this...not anymore. Everything had always been her fault--her mistakes, her crimes...her sins. She pushed herself off of the tangled mess of bedding and walked--stopping only long enough to pluck up one of the half-empty bottles from the table and upend the liquid into her mouth--across the chamber as the giant gears groaned and ground overhead.

She leaned her forehead against the heavy armoire before her--three souls and the only key to breaking the laws of life and death...she had everything she needed within her grasp but, did she deserve it? Would she not only screw everything up again like this?!  
_'What do you think? They most likely despise you for letting them die. Even if you succeed...they will only abandon you in their hate. Love is a fleeting, fickle thing where a beast like you is concerned--no one loves a destroyer because you are not meant to love anything.'_

Slowly she turned so her bare, scarred back rested on the doors and lifted the bottle to her lips--gulping down the contents before hurling the bottle across the room. The shattering of glass on ancient brick did little to quell the rage and sorrow warring within her battered and shattered heart.  
_'Lovely example there--taking out your self-loathing on inanimate objects now?'_

She raked her fingers through her hair and looked off to the side--cat-like eyes landing on a faint glint of silver and gold on one of the bookshelves. Slowly she stumble-walked over and lifted the object up to see it better by the candlelight--oh yes...the Persian flintlock pistol she had 'acquired'. Slowly she ran her fingers over the ornate gold and silver overlays--curious how the weight felt almost right in her hands even now, wasn't it? Such a piece of lethal, beautiful artwork really--so little dared to compare.  
_'You took more care of that thing than you did the breathing beings in your life. How long did it take to clean off all of the blood the original owner left behind when you slaughtered him like a pig to sate your hunger?'_

As she made her way back to the 'nest'--the pistol held in one hand--she plucked another half-empty bottle from the low table, collapsing onto her back before taking a long gulp from the bottle--the liquid tasted more sour in a sense, but maybe that was simply her? She drew the pistol up and looked at it as color danced wildly from the lightning beyond the wall of stained glass--leather clad legs crossed at the ankles.  
_'Are you done yet? Has every drop of tainted blood in your body finally turned into alcohol?'_

She finished the bottle and let it drop from her hand--bringing the pistol up to rest against her lips. She watched the gears turn overhead before slipping the barrel beyond the seal of her lips and closing her eyes.

= = =

Slowly, cat-like eyes opened and took in the rainbow of colors dancing around her chamber from the morning sunlight. As she pushed herself up onto one arm, her addled mind took in that the bottles on the table were gone...the glass over by the wall had been cleaned up...her trail of clothing was no longer on the floor--the blood-tinted water was gone too it seemed. She glanced down at herself--her usual nightwear of a thin black tank top and black silk pajama pants clad her frame now. Raking her fingers through her disheveled hair, she noticed that the pistol was back in it's stand on the shelf.

As she tried to process the morning changes over what she recalled from last night, a creaking sound reached her. She jerked her head to the side as the door to the inside of the tower slowly pushed open and a blond head of hair came inside. She blinked the human--her donor--pushed the door shut once more. Slowly the young man turned to look at her--a small smile on his face that did not reach his eyes.

"Ah, good--you're awake, Dante. Is there anything I can get for you? I brought some breakfast--guess you can have the bacon, egg, and cheese croissants or my blood first? Coffee good? I made sure to get extra dark chocolate syrup and whipped cream in your frozen mocha."

"Thanks, Cy...all sounds good." She said quietly, her Italian accent oddly heavy and her voice rough from the night before, as she watched the slim human come so fearlessly towards her and set the fast food bag and cardboard drink holder on the table in front of her bed. As she looked at the blond--prepared to speak--she froze...cat-like green trapped and held by worried blue-gray.

"Dante...please don't give up. I'm here for you...for as long as you want me to. You're my friend." Was all the blond whispered--his tone so serious and heavily-laden with sorrow and concern that the woman could not stop the few remaining tears that escaped her.

"Thank you, Cy." She whispered as her donor--no...her friend--took one of her hands in his own, infinitely more fragile one and sat down next to her. As she listened to him begin to talk, she could only whisper in her own tortured mind _'Maybe not tonight'._


End file.
